


Where We Go From Here

by Bees_and_Ink



Series: But Men are Men [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, PTSD, Post Game, Scars, Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bees_and_Ink/pseuds/Bees_and_Ink
Summary: A series of vignettes focusing on the lives and relationships of Fernand, Aviana, and Laetitia after the events of Echoes, as well as the people surrounding them.Berkut is dead. Rinea is dead. Fernand survived.(AU has outdated things established. An updated version that more properly depicts the universe will eventually be uploaded in the same series!)





	1. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“The world was all before them, where to choose  
>  Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.”_
> 
> _— John Milton, Paradise Lost._

Peace after a war takes time.

Even after the dragon had been slain, the men ordered to stop fighting, and paperwork handled, diffusing all tensions wasn’t possible with just the wave of a piece of parchment. That was just the nature of the beast. As it turned out, the work of getting through treaties and reuniting the two hostile nations of the continent into a single kingdom was hardly easy work, paper or otherwise, something that Aviana and Laetitia understood quite well.

All things considered, they _had_ technically betrayed their home country of Rigel, so that had certainly played a large part in the two staying in Zofia for as long as they had, but part of it was just a matter of waiting until the tensions at the border had lessened before paying their families a visit. Letters could only do so much, after all.

It also had been hard to decline Fernand’s mumbled invitation for them to stay at his manor while they waited for things to blow over. After all, while all three of them had betrayed their country and watched their lord consumed by Duma’s madness, the two women could tell that the Zofian was the loneliest of them all. So they came to the decision to stick together for the time being, similar as they were, to heal. 

The manor out in the country had been lovely. 

From the moment the two women laid eyes on it, they knew that the house would be a place where they could feel welcome. 

It was painted white and Gothic in design, with three stories and large windows to effectively air it out during the merciless Zofian summers. There was a stone water fountain in the front with a unicorn lying beneath the main column of it, roses coiled around the slightly raised leg of the equine. Based off of Fernand’s banner and signet ring, it wasn’t very hard to guess that the unicorn was the icon of the aristocratic House Cheval. Cobblestones paved the front all the way to the steps leading up the the large front door, smooth underfoot, while several shrubberies and neatly trimmed rose bushes were maintained in the front. In the back was a large stretch of land to the west, with an area set aside for stables and a fenced off pasture, as well as an orchard with straight rows of fruit trees that were older than all of their ages combined.

The dragon felt like they had found a decent place to take a nap at last, while the dancer had the distinct feeling of arriving home as she walked through the gate and threshold for the first time.

Things never really felt awkward between them, since they had worked together before, and Fernand seemed to like the company well enough. Aviana imagined that being in that big empty house by himself had been unbearably lonely, even if Clive and Clair had a residence well within short riding distance.

The ladies settled in rather seamlessly. Very soon after arriving, however, Fernand handed them a coin purse and sent two of the maids to accompany the Rigelians so they could go out and buy some more suitable clothing (Laetitia suspected it was because Aviana had walked around in just her shift one time too many). Needless to say, the lighter linens of Zofian clothing were a relief in the heat. There was a freedom in them that made the dark, heavy cloth of Rigelian clothing feel almost oppressive by comparison.


	2. Unknown

Laetitia was learning to trust other people after being held at arm's length for her whole life. And it _was_ undoubtedly a learning experience. She was learning that there were people who wouldn’t judge her for her ears and tail, more people like Aviana and Fernand and Rinea out there. But there could never be another Berkut to her. She was sure her heart would ache forever for him. 

Yet, also, her heart would always ache for what he and his Rinea could have had, what they deserved to have. They had been a couple that blatantly adored each other, and she couldn’t help but wonder about the endless “what if’s” of their union. 

What would Berkut be like as emperor?

What would Rinea be like as empress?

How many children would they have? What would they look like? Would they be as determined as Berkut? As sweet as gentle Rinea?

How long would they rule? 

What would they do for the empire that adored them?

She also resolved to protect those she cared for so she wouldn’t fail again like she had with the young couple. That’s why it always put her on edge like a stressed animal and made her very alert whenever she heard Fernand shout in pain as Aviana healed his burns daily, which only seemed to grow more and more sensitive as time passed. Laetitia worried over him, the last thing she wanted for him to be in any sort of pain, but was glad to inform both of them that she still had yet to smell any sort of infection. He wouldn’t die of sepsis.

“Of course I won’t,” he scoffed. “It would be pathetic for me to die from a damned _infection_ after Aviana has done this much and I have made it thus far.”

“Right,” Aviana said. “Now let’s go stretch your shoulder, hun.”

Laetitia was surprised by how little he complained about how much of an inconvenience it all was for him. Apart from general grunts and hisses and shouts of pain, he remained fairly passive about it all, never once snapping at Aviana herself for being too rough with the tender areas. The ice dragon supposed that it had something to do with the incomplete story the two gave her about what exactly had transpired down at the altar of Duma and the vacant look that drifted into Aviana’s eyes whenever she looked at the burns. 

As Aviana helped him stretch out his darkened shoulder, Laetitia couldn’t help but notice that they looked chillingly like handprints, places where hands of fire had branded him in a tight grip, darkest at his shoulder and his wrist with “less” severe burns fanning outward from the impact. There were marks trailing down the slopes of his back as well, like fingertips had reached for him, but the most severe ones were on the front of his body below where his breastplate had once rested. 

She supposed a lot of things would have to be left unknown, she thought as she looked down at the remnants of Berkut’s crown and one of Rinea’s flowers.


	3. Kindle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!_   
>  _Smoothed by long fingers,_   
>  _Asleep… tired… or it malingers,_   
>  _Stretched out on the floor, here beside you and me._   
>  _Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,_   
>  _Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?_   
>  _… and in short, I was afraid.”_   
>    
>  _— T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”_

“Go out, get some sun,” he urged his guests, beckoning out to the vast countryside of the estate with an encouraging nod. “It will be good for you.”

“What, you don’t like my milky white complexion, Fernand?”

“Shut up, Aviana.” There was a certain fondness in the way he said that, perhaps because of the distinct lack of any sort of true acidity to it.

Avi grinned.

“Marble?” she suggested, leaning forward tauntingly. “Maybe even alabaster, you might even say?”

“May we eat from the fruit trees?” Laetitia cut in — interrupting the inevitable bickering before it could happen — looking to the platinum blond for permission. 

“Certainly,” Fernand replied, calm coming over him once again as he leaned back properly into his seat. He had braced himself, clutching the arms of his chair to surge forward and (presumably) strangle Aviana for her cheekiness. Laetitia simply felt that it was too early for their bickering. Or, rather, too soon for the migraine that would follow. Fernand was always so _loud_ about it. 

“The oranges are most ripe this time of year,” he finished.

When the two Rigelians returned from their short venture out less than an hour later, both of their “alabaster” skin a bright red from sunburn, Fernand had actually laughed, deep and rich and _real_ , at the sight, not expecting it.

“By the Mother, what has happened? You’re as red as tomatoes!”

“Mistakes have been made,” said Aviana.

“It hurts,” Laetitia deadpanned, somehow not quite as amused as the count. That might have had something to do with the way the tips of her tapered ears had flared to an angry scarlet where they poked out from her hair.

“Join the festivities,” the platinum blond shot back dryly, having grown accustomed to the constant pain and general discomfort of his own burns being constantly bound. 

He stood. “Come inside,” he said with a disbelieving chuckle, head shaking. “We’ve something that ought to soothe that, somewhat.”

He couldn’t bring himself or the servants to disturb the two from their spots on the marble floor of the foyer; their uncomfortable positions sprawled across the cool stone with aloe vera smeared across their skin was testament enough to their misery. It _was_ , however, rather amusing to watch the maids step awkwardly around them and trying to hushedly decide if they ought to do something, all the while gauging a stoic Fernand for approval or disapproval. 

But after the breaths of the Rigelians indicated they had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep once the sun had set, he did personally bring them pillows and quilts for if they got cold. He couldn’t just _leave_ ladies like that in good conscience, after all. He hadn’t been raised that way. Valentine would have chewed his ear off if he had and if she was still alive.

“Thank you,” Aviana mumbled, stirring as he slipped the pillow under her head.

“Hush,” he whispered. And then, after a few beats. “I’m very sorry. I know that all of this is very uncomfortable. Sunburns are hardly what one might call pleasant.”

“Oh, really? I thought this was just something that you Zofians did for fun,” she shot back through a yawn. “Rite of passage, or something like that.”

“It gladdens me to see that you’re well enough to still be impudent,” Fernand scoffed, though a smirk tugged at his lips.

She shot an impish look over her shoulder at him, green cat eyes agleam.

“With all seriousness, though, are you faring well? Despite the circumstance.”

The smile left her eyes as she looked away. “I’m fine,” she replied, soft. “It’s nothing compared to what you went through.” The strawberry blonde stiffly stretched out her body with a grimace, still very much tender and gross as she turned to face him on her side, propping her head up. 

“You’re a lot stronger than we are,” she admitted without issue.

All mirth left his expression. “What has come over you? That’s nonsense,” he said with a frown. “None of us would be here without one another; certainly not I. … _you_ know that better than anyone.”

Aviana waited a few moments before tilting her head a bit, considering him. “Today was the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh like that,” she said. “A proper laugh.”

He immediately became flustered, turning his head to look aside. “Oh gods, please don’t poke fun at my expense.” 

A fond smile overcame her features as she reached out her hand to touch his cheek. “I adore it. I hope to see more of him come out to grace the scene, say hello, have some tea.” A few moments passed before she added without the same joking tone, “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

The blond didn’t reply. He didn’t even remember that Laetitia was slumbering a few feet away. He simply felt that the stars had aligned for the perfect moment, so he did what his mind was demanding he do, ignoring the flighty feeling deep down of being burned by something far more frightening than even the hands of a witch.

He acquiesced to Aviana’s ever-persistent request that she had been hounding him with ever since they had met.

Fernand kissed her.


	4. Spectre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“And indeed there will be time_   
>  _To wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and, ‘Do I dare?’_   
>  _Time to turn back and descend the stair..._   
>  _Do I dare_   
>  _Disturb the universe?_   
>  _In a minute there is time_   
>  _For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.”_
> 
> _— T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”_

A knock sounding at his bedroom door wasn’t what woke Fernand up.

No, for he had left his bed an hour ago unable to sleep, and wandered over to sink into a chair and thumb through a novel he was only partially paying attention to. A hazel stare would wander off the page, like a lost child who had lost his mother’s bruising grip in a marketplace, to blankly stare at the fireplace across from him, watching the embers glow red as he forgot where he had left off. 

Then, through the haze of fixation… a gentle knock seized his attention, leaving him to turn his gaze to the door.

Too much of a proper rap to be the scrape of a cat.

Too halting to be one of the maids. 

Too late to be Laetitia.

Setting the hardback aside on the side table, Fernand rose from the chair with a grimace at the sharp ache in his abdomen, barring a curse behind his teeth. He crossed the room over to the door and twisted the handle in his palm, pulling it inward to peer at whoever had come to visit him at this hour.

A part of him wasn’t surprised to see Aviana standing there, tresses spilling over her shoulders, freed from their usual ponytail. He certainly felt a bit naked with only his braies and bandages, but he couldn’t have been bothered to cover up more, anyway, after the grievance of simply standing. The acute throbbing in his shoulder when he began to raise his arms so he could cross them forced him to push it aside. It just wasn’t worth it. Besides that, any discomfort dissipated entirely when the platinum blond caught the vacant look in her eyes. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied, just as soft.

She turned her head to the side, looking down the hall as she shuffled her bare feet together. He could hardly believe that she seemed _nervous_ standing there, for Aviana had always been one of insurmountable confidence in herself and everything she did, even when she had a helplessly, marvelously stupid idea. Only ill things ever occurred whenever _she_ of all people was nervous. 

He thumbed his bandaged wrist.

Yes, he remembered when he had seen her panic.

“What is wrong?” 

“I... don’t wanna be alone, tonight…” Aviana started, before turning back to him. Uncertainty creased her brow as she sought out his own gaze without any of her usual flirtiness present. “Do you?”

It was such an _honest_ question seeking security in the midst of being lost somewhere no one else could find, and Fernand knew why. His own expression softened.

“I despise nothing more than being alone, at this rate,” he admitted to this specter. He opened the door wider, stepping aside to grant her entry. “Make yourself comfortable.”

It felt like a dream to watch her pad past the threshold, striding past yet another consented barrier between them to enter the privacy of his room, to slip under the sheets of his bed, to share his space.

Those barriers were becoming more and more tenuous as they kept crossing back and forth across them, wearing them down until they were seemingly nonexistent, like a path well-trod through the undergrowth. It was almost funny how almost dying could do that between people.

All of it left Fernand turning his head against the pillow to watch her sleeping features, almost angelic in their serenity whenever those catlike eyes weren’t staring with something insatiable. It was then that he started to truly wonder about just what the two of them were, how he felt. Clearly, he must have felt something if _he_ of all people was letting the woman sleep in his bed beside him, something that would have been unheard of not two years ago.

_You know I’m in love with you, right?_

Her words echoed in his head, trapped on repeat like the chorus of a tavern tune that everyone knew, as he traced her features by sight. He remembered how soft her lips had been, remembered the taste of spice clinging to his own afterward. He remembered the cold bite of water as he splashed his face, trying to drown the desire and the frustration and the fear and every other confusing, indiscernible thing that he had been overwhelmed with at once. It had been _too much_ sensation, too much feeling.

Her presence paradoxically both vexed and comforted him. Despite the way she plagued his thoughts, he found his shifts back into consciousness were much fewer than in previous nights, the nightmares not quite as jarring. It wasn’t as hard to fall back asleep when they did the inevitable of waking him.

A part of him regretted when he woke her in the morning to wander back to her room, but this wasn’t the time to be caught by the maids, chaste though they had been. Enough of his honor had been compromised when he had become a turncoat. He didn’t need to be labeled an adulterer in addition to craven.

“Thank you,” Aviana said groggily, looking back from the doorway. Though her voice still sounded like she was still halfway submerged into the fog of a dream, her eyes had been clearer than ever.

He furrowed his brows, confused by what she meant. He was throwing her out before the sun had risen; thanking him was the last thing he expected her to do, though to be fair, she rarely ever seemed to do what he expected.

“For letting me stay,” she explained. “It was nice to not be alone.”

Fernand stared at the door for a long time after she was gone. With her sleepy smile burned into his memory, he concluded that he was going mad, and no amount of cold water splashed on his face could change that.

**Author's Note:**

> Aviana belongs to me, while Laetitia belongs to Katrov! Please go check out Laetitia’s design/profile on ToyHouse — she really is a beautiful OC. I also have Aviana’s profile.  
> https://toyhou.se/1971043.laetitia  
> https://toyhou.se/3176654.aviana
> 
> Please don’t claim either as your own.  
> Please also don’t claim my writing/work as your own.


End file.
